


Ts Uncrossed and Is Undotted

by VodkaKevin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Disassociation, Emotionally Hurt Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Running Away, Sexual Content, Trans Castiel, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4805417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VodkaKevin/pseuds/VodkaKevin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of being horrifically abused by his father, Dean Winchester finally gets the guts to run. He is taken in by the family of his brother's boyfriend, Gabriel Novak, and finds himself become unlikely friends with the youngest son, Castiel, a transgender AP class junkie running from his own demons. Over the time, the two begin to help each other bury their pasts - but can it really be put six feet under for good? What happens when John Winchester comes looking for the son he traumatised?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ts Uncrossed and Is Undotted

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Welcome to my new fanfiction, Ts Uncrossed and Is undotted - which yes, is a reference to Twenty One Pilot's Holding Onto You. 
> 
> This story is based very loosely on a true story. I'll probably write more about that at some other time though. 
> 
> I'm writing it as I go along, comments are, of course, welcome. Trans!Cas is based off one of my best friends, so I hope I manage to do him justice uwu. If I get any details wrong though, please let me know! 
> 
> **Warnings for implied rape/non-consexual sex & underage sex, post traumatic stress disorder, mental illness, alcohol abuse, bullying and physical abuse**
> 
> Lots of love and do enjoy,  
> Alice

* * *

 

 _'_ _And when your father turns to stone_

_Will you take care of me?'_

   Dean Winchester glanced at the small portion of his reflection that was visible in the rear mirror. A pair of eyes once described as 'the colour of nature' by some girl at some party over two years ago glared back at him, framed - beautifully, he thought sarcastically - by stormy bruises. An orange gaslight passed over his features, reminding him where he  _should_ be directing his gaze: the road. The freeway, illuminated by the usual catseyes, dipped slightly, before slithering a little to the left. Sighing, Dean rested his elbow on the open window. The 2am air was chilly - summer was definitely coming to an end, he thought to himself, as goosebumps skittered up his arm. They had been driving for the last 3 hours, and even though the Responsible Driver was supposed to stop every 2 hours for a break, Dean couldn't bring himself to take his foot off the gas pedal. Why should he be expected to pull in at a service station and indulge himself on the overthought recipe of an Americano when he could just get to where he needed to be now? He wasn't even  _tired._

    As the singer on the mixtape made an attempt at screamo, Dean cringed. He would have given anything to slide in one of his habitual CDs, but his charge - the boy fast asleep in the passenger seat, the boy three years younger than him but dressed like he was in his thirties, had prepared these CDs  _specially._ That's what Gabe said as he pressed the box of discs into his hand anyway - and given circumstances, he couldn't exactly say no.

   He couldn't help it. His mind was already starting to skitter backwards - and despite his efforts to mentally build picket fences, his consciousness hopped over them easily.

   Just four hours ago, he'd shown up at his brothers, and the fingerprints on his arms had already become bruises. Sammy's eyes had instinctively found them, stretching his hand out to grip his brother's wrist, stroking the marks gingerly.

 "Did he do this to you?" he'd said, and there was a chill to his tone that Dean never wanted to have to hear again. Grimly, the older sibling had nodded.

  "I took my stuff. All of it. It's in the car," Dean had said, gesturing with his head to the Chevy Impala '67, his pride and joy, the car that probably made up more of his identity than the substance inside of him did.

 "Dean, where are you gonna go?" Sam had said. Dean shrugged.

  "Was kinda hoping I could crash here a couple of days," he replied, his eyes wandering everywhere but Sam's. His brother's gaze, on the other hand, was fixated on his face. Dean knew if he had the guts to look, his brother's hazel eyes would be full of concern, of worry, of things that would provoke that familiar painful lump in his throat. And he couldn't think of anything more embarrassing than crying in front of his baby brother.

  "You know, if we had space, or at least a couch you could sleep on, you would be welcome," Sam started, and Dean could feel something begin to deflate inside of him. Later, he would look back and realise that this was called  _hope._ And now it was gone. He sighed, stared down at his shoes, smiled.

  "It's cool Sammy," he said, "I got money. Maybe I can find a motel and-"

   "Sam?" Dean was cut off by a familiar voice. Unable to hide an eye roll, he directed his gaze over Sam's shoulder at his brother's boyfriend. At twenty one, Gabriel Novak was a year older than Dean and five years senior to his brother. How the hell the younger Winchester had managed to pull someone so much older was beyond Dean - but hey, Sam's old job in a coffee shop had attracted some interesting people. Just three months into their relationship, Sam had left Lawrence and moved in with Gabe. He'd said something similar to Dean in a letter left for him, asking him to Promise Not To Tell Dad Where I Am; If We Had Space, You Would Be Welcome, Sorry Dean, Look After Yourself. Dean hadn't even been aware of his hands curling into fists. Venomous words were about to roll of his tongue when he realised there was someone standing right behind Gabe, their figure reduced to a silhouette in the light of the entrance hall.

  "I won't be a sec," Sam called back to Gabriel. The older boy's eyes flickered from Sam to Dean. He gave Dean a lopsided grin and a wave. All Dean could muster was a glare.

   "Did you finally away get away from the prick too?" Gabe asked Dean. The juvenile tone that he adopted just said it all; it was obvious  _Sam_ still hadn't been particular about why they referred to their Dad, John fucking Winchester, as The Prick, other than the fact that he was Somewhat Abusive and Therefore Unliveable With.

  "Yeah, he just left," Sam answered for Dean, knowing that if he left the duty to his brother, the explanation wouldn't be in quite so cordial words. "Just trying to figure out where he can stay."

  "I already told you, it's fine, I'll just stay at a mo-" Dean started, before Gabriel interjected again. This son of a bitch was really cruising for a slap, he _swore._

  "Well I was gonna be dropping Cassie home then coming back here. I'm sure my parents would be chill with you staying a couple weeks, if you want."

   Staying with The  _Novaks?_ Dean had to clench his teeth to stop himself retching. He'd never met Gabriel's family before, aka the people most likely soon to become Sam's inlaws, the way things were going, but anyone who could spawn someone as smug as Gabriel couldn't be worth his time. And who the hell was  _Cassie_ anyw-

   Dean's voice trailed off as the silhouette standing behind Gabe pushed past him. The alleged 'nature green' eyes suddenly found themselves doused by eyes of deepest blue partially concealed by a confused squint, framed by dark, scruffy hair.

  "Dean, meet my brother, Castiel. Castiel, this is my boyfriend's brother, Dean Winchester." Dean hardly heard Gabriel's voice. The boy staring back at him was, quite simply, the strangest person he'd ever seen in his entire life. I mean, he was wearing a  _beige trench coat._

  "He's wearing a  _beige trench coat,_ Sam." Dean found himself whispering  half an hour later as he sat at the table inside Sam and Gabriel's apartment. Well - apartment was a bit of a stretch - it was more of a glorified bedsit, really; the kitchen table wedged against one wall, which Dean could stretch his feet out from and find his feet tickling the tiny television. At one end was the front door; at the other end, which would take three Dean strides, and two Sam strides, to reach, was a hallway, that had just two options: a literal  _storage cupboard,_ which was apparently where Cassie/Castiel, had decided to sleep for the last three nights, for lack of better sleeping arrangements due to the Winchester-Novak's lack of couch. ("Don't judge him Dean, Cassie has always been a  _bit weird,"_ Gabriel had said, when he had raised his eyebrows at the younger Novak's sleeping decision.). At the other end of the hallway, of course, was Sam and Gabe's room, which Dean vowed never to go near, given the doey eyes the couple kept shooting each other. It didn't help that the entire apartment/bedsit, was decorated like a prostitute's operating quarters - macabre didn't even cover it.

  "He's wearing a  _beige trenchcoat,_ Sam."

  "Dean, you've said that four times now. What's your point?" Sam hissed back. The three of them were waiting for Castiel to 'gather his things', or so he'd said in a voice unusually high for a dude. Dean opened his mouth, but realised that he actually  _didn't have a point._ He had no reason for reiterating it, but it was like his brain had been split apart by the stranger. He couldn't even put a finger on it.

  "And why is his voice so high? I mean, did the guy not go through puberty or something?" muttered Dean. Sam rolled his eyes.

  "Dude, he's _trans_. So technically, no," the younger Winchester replied, gaze suddenly cold, as if his brother had offended him personally. Castiel? Gabriel's brother  _was trans_? Dean blinked at his older brother. He never would have guessed - but then again, that wasn't the point, really. Now, as Dean tried - and failed - to formulate words - some kind of apology, some reassurance that he hadn't turned into some kind of transphobic dickbag while Sam had been away - Castiel  entered the room, the same beige trench coat hanging off his skinny form. Now that he was aware, Dean found himself noticing small things he'd previously passed over before. The softer edge to Cas' jaw, a trace of hip where there wouldn't normally be one...  All that aside, Castiel passed well. Extraordinarily well, actually.

  "I've prepared some CDs," he said, for some reason still speaking to Gabriel, even though it was now established that Dean would be driving the pair of them four hours to Sioux Falls, Nebraska, where the Novaks resided. Gabriel handed them straight over to Dean.

  "Hear that, Dean-o? Castiel prepared these CDs  _specially_ ," he said. Dean had to bite his tongue not to say shit. After all, this boy's family was offering him shelter - which after a simple phone call, reported that the Novaks were  _ready to welcome Dean with open arms._ He almost vomited with how apple-pie family these sons of bitches sounded.

   Dean tried a smile instead, staring at the CDs. Castiel probably listened to opera. But, as the previous song ended, he had to admit, he'd been surprised. Castiel's taste seemed to be more indie/electronica than anything, and while it wasn't Led Zepplin or The Who, it wasn't unlistenable. Dean risked a glance at Castiel, and felt his heart leap into his throat for a second. He'd assumed that the silence from the younger Novak meant that he was asleep, but he could see that those sapphire eyes were, in fact, wide open, staring straight ahead.

   "I can imagine you wouldn't want to talk about it," Castiel began in a low voice as he realised Dean had thrown a glance in his direction, "but your father must have done something bad for you to have to leave your residence at half past midnight." He glanced over at Dean. Prickles of heat crept up the older Winchester's face where Castiel's eyes were examining him. Dean swallowed and stared at the road. Only one hour to go-

  "If you would like to talk about the nature of exactly why you ran away at any point, I'm happy to listen," he said. There was a strange edge to his voice - one that Dean had only heard in Sam's voice. Almost.... Almost as if he actually  _cared_ for Dean. Which, of course, was ridiculous - they'd literally spoken to each other  _twice_ and met each other  _five hours ago._ He chided himself on this alien need to feel like People Actually Gave a Shit About Him.

  "Fine. It's fine," Dean said, hating himself a little more for the chill in his voice. Castiel nodded.

  "I understand." Dean could feel his eyes creeping down to his neck. The prickles of heat on his skin followed Castiel's gaze. "My offer is still open for when you may need it."  
 

   Neither of them said anything further to each other, until they reached Sioux Falls, in which Castiel directed Dean to the house that he had grown up in for the last seventeen years.

   "You can park in the driveway, my parents won't mind," he said, "just as long as you do not block in that Jaguar. That's my brother Michael's car. He leaves at six in the morning every day, and he  _will_ come and wake you up and demand you move your car if you do."

   "What job does he even have?" said Dean, inching past a convertible almost parked diagonally across the road and swinging into the driveway. He frowned back at the convertible. Who even had the guts to leave their car like that? Back in Kansas, that car woulda been torched before you could say 'disaster'.

  "He works at a law firm," Castiel replied, "from what I can gather it's  _very_ important and  _very_ complicated."

   "And  _very_ boring," Dean added. Castiel turned and squinted at him, and Dean expected to see offence written across his features when he looked at the trenchcoat-clad boy, but when he turned away, he could see Castiel was smiling slightly.

   "My parents have informed me that they would like you to share the attic with me for now," he said, leading the way as they climbed the stairs once inside. Dean stopped for a moment to reposition his hiking bag - which pretty much had all of his possessions in it. Dean Winchester was not a man of many items, and that's how he liked it. However, the prospect of sharing a room with someone that he barely knew made him feel extremely uneasy - but then again, this didn't exactly seem debatable. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He could do this. The kid was only seventeen, after all. Not like... He shook his head. No. Not now.

    His parents may be asleep now - it was 5.15am that they had finally rolled into the Novak residence - but they had been nice enough to install a camp bed at the other end of the attic. Setting his bag down on it, Dean stared around the room. Cas' bed was wedged against the wall, a slanted window set into the roof of the house above where the pillows were placed. The walls were washed a neutral white, but the ceiling... Dean's mouth fell open as his eyes strayed to it. In the space of the lamp light Castiel had turned on when they had both managed to climb the ladder into the room, Dean could see that the ceiling was painted with delicate golden stars, swimming in deep indigo. Each star was surrounded with a swirl of glittery gold.

   "My sister painted it for me." Castiel followed Dean's gaze, smiling up at the ceiling. "Anna. You'll meet her tomorrow, no doubt. It won't surprise you to know that she's an artist."

    Dean found himself smiling, for the first time in hours. Slowly, he sat down on the little camp bed on the other side of the room, and started to unlace his shoes. Maybe things  _would_ be okay here. Maybe he could make it work - until he found something more permanent, that was. But as of right now, he got to  _literally_ sleep under the stars. What could be better?

    He knew thinking like that was dangerous. A sudden, almighty crash mingling with the sound of shattered glass sent the hearts of both Winchester and Novak skittering into the edges of their ribcages. Dean's eyes met Castiel's, already staring at him through sudden hooded, fearful eyelids. In synchronisation, they both headed to the ladder, both descending soundlessly; down the stairs, like bodies in rewind, Castiel fumbling with his keys in the lock, and then out into the street.

    With relief, Dean realised that his pride and joy, his Impala, his baby, was safe. However, less could be said about the convertible, once parked terribly on the road, now nothing less than a flaming mess of metal and a gut-wrenching stench of rubber and smoke.

   _B_ _ack in Kansas, that car woulda been torched before you could say 'disaster',_ Dean thought with a sickening twist in his stomach. Maybe things would be okay here, he thought with a sick smile. Maybe he thought wrong.

 

* * *

 


End file.
